


A Criminal is Never Late

by ElisabethMonroe



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Memories, Retire Fic, Retired Fic, old people, retire, retired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElisabethMonroe/pseuds/ElisabethMonroe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a face from the past comes back to 76 year old Sebastian Moran<br/>"I did come back..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Criminal is Never Late

**Author's Note:**

> So you all should definitely tell me in the doobly do if you want me to flesh this out into something substantial.  
> Also, if you find tense disagreement, tell me in the whatchamacallit  
> This was one of those things written quickly as my computer was dying and my eyes beginning to burn but I had to write it right then and there  
> We're going to pretend that season three, at least the last scene, didn't happen. No spoilers here.

Sebastian was 76 before he was finally admitted into a nursing home, kicking and screaming and cursing the whole way. He was what they called a danger case. Someone who might forcibly stop themselves from breathing or purposely not take medication. He lost the love of his life, his soul mate as they all recall him saying, when he was 35. He was 45 before he got serious again. And he was 75 when Ian died. It was the doctor mandated physiatrist who eventually signed the papers for the man who had long since gone from blond to ginger to a startling white that didn’t fall out. Sebastian prided himself on this because Jim always said he’d go bald.

Sebastian was 76 when they started to give him medication for hallucinations and anxiety and nightmares and PTSD. He vaguely listened as they yelled at him for his drug riddled past and alcohol ridden middle and have you been eating recently?s. It’s fucking ridiculous is what it is.

They showed him his room. He hated it. It was white and white and white and don’t they know that white and black are great for personal demons to manifest from? He didn’t get jeans or t-shirts. He was allowed to keep personal momentums. The necklace with Jim’s ring and Ian’s ring on it. The necklace with a bullet that had his name carved on it. Both of his own rings, one promise, one wedding, two guys. He got to keep the suit that he always had with him. He got to keep the worn, army green duffle bag. He got to keep all three pillows he’d brought. His pictures stayed as well. One off a CCTV scan that he’s used to impress Ian. It was from when they’d first moved in together. Sebastian was stretched out in a lazy X in the door way with a pizza girl in front of him. Ian’s arm was wrapped around his stomach and chest and he was lightly nibbling on Sebastian’s ear. It was Sebastian’s favorite picture of them. There was two photostrips. One with Jim. One with Ian. A picture collage of Jim smoking, sleeping, eating, laughing, glaring, and shooting. Several various pictures of him kissing both of his guys. He got to keep the note Jim left and the letters that Ian had arranged for him to be given post mortem.  He did not get to keep the knife nor the gun he brought, which pained him because that’s _the_ gun.

The shower got amazingly hot and he got in an amazing amount of trouble for taking long showers. It was hardly his fault. If Woodstock would stand up, he’d make use of it. For God’s sake, his dick just stopped working at the rate it used to and he was expected to not take advantage of it when was up and running?

It was two weeks before the first attack. The doctor’s rattled off lots of words that Ian would know. Or Jim. Or both.  Definitely both. What the sniper took from it was asthmatic and epileptic. He was hooked up to a breathing machine which made it incredibly difficult to move around with. This did not keep him from flirting with the other patients. The nurses all laughed at how he made the women blush and giggle like school girls and they’re amazed to find the men’s views of sexuality challenged by that irresistible smirk.

Two months go and they all think he was getting better. He took his pills when he was supposed to and talked about what he had to. He didn’t resist but a few times when he came to his first lover. He was doing fine, adjusting fine. That was, until they walked in on him, screaming in the bed, arms wrapped around all the pillows, sobbing James, Jim, Jimmy, and Ian over and over again, begging to be with them, for all of this to end.

When he was asked about it during his session, he tried to joke it off. He’d always end up with one because Jim went to Hell and Ian went to Heaven and there was no doubt in his mind. It’s only a week later that he was caught breaking into the main office, trying to load his gun and unsheathe his knife.

After that, he wasn’t allowed alone.

Six months come and go. A party was thrown for Sebastian’s 77th birthday. Marinna kissed his cheek, which was great ‘cause she was only 68 and still wore bright red lipstick. He laughed and smiled for the pictures before leaving for his room and taking a three hour long shower, most of which he spent curled in the corner, staring at the water.

Nearly a year into Sebastian’s stay, a new man arrived. Sebastian was currently in one of his higher moods. They’d all learned to predict it, though they had no explanation and no drug would solve it. He had times where he soared and seemed well enough to live on his own. Then there were the times where it was painfully obvious as to why he was here. But, he was doing well, so he was out in the living area, watching rugby and worrying everyone because he refused to stop to refill his oxygen tank and he was depleting it very quickly yelling at men a third his age. There was a crisps commercial on when the door opened and Sebastian knew the voice instantly.

“Darling, I do _not_ need help getting up the steps. I’m old not dead. Do you know how much cardio I did when I could move? Had this boyfriend who was a _horse_ in bed. Stamina wise I mean.” All the lilts were in the right spot, all the inflections and the accent. Time had sanded away the edges slightly, but that was the same voice.

“Mr. Brook, please, just control yourself until we get you to your room.” Sebastian was up faster than he’d moved in a long time, which he body was going to greatly protest as soon as the message got from his nerves to his brain back to his nerves.

“James,” the blond breathed, stopping the male nurse who was pushing Jim’s wheel chair in.  Jim looked up and up, still, even after all this time. A wide, _real_ smile cracked Jim’s face and Sebastian fell to his knees, burying his own face in Jim’s lap. He ignores how one leg is shriveled into nothing. They were old. They got to break.

A female nurse rushed forward to hold Sebastian, but he was past help. Tears streamed down his face and he held onto the blanket that was on Jim’s legs tightly. “God…I thought…all this time…forty years…” he whimpered, shaking his head.

“Mr. Moran, really, you need to get up. Do you need to eat? Get medication? Take a shower?” the female nurse asked, gently pushing on Sebastian’s shoulder to get him off of Jim’s lap and out of the way.

However, Jim’s gnarled hands shot forward and buried themselves in Sebastian’s hair. “It’s still here, baby,” the once brunet, now bald man laughed.

Sebastian choked on a sob and nodded, tightening his hold on Jim’s blanket. “You never came back. You never said a word,” he finally said, lifting still Sicilian blue eyes up to Jim’s. “And you’re very late.”

“A criminal is never late, darling,” the younger man laughed sadly, tracing large, disfigured knuckles down Sebastian’s cheek. Jim bit his lip and looked down, for once looking ashamed. “I did come back. By then there was Derek. He was helping you and you were getting better. I thought it was best that I waited for you to fully recover. And then there was Ian. He took care of you, loved you in a way that I didn’t think I was capable of. I stayed in the shadows, watched over you, made sure you were doing well. When he got cancer, I made sure he was transferred to the best hospital and I made sure his medication was always paid. It was the least I could do after he saved my tiger.” Jim ran a hand through Sebastian’s hair lovingly. “I was going to come back to you when he died but then you disappeared. I lost you. I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m not going to hate myself either because you got him out of it. “

Sebastian didn’t care what Jim had to say. He struggled to lean up higher and finally elected to just pull Jim’s face down to his. And then they were kissing, roughly, passionately, like Sebastian hadn’t been able to do in over two years. His lips bobbed against Jim’s as his lungs begged for air and his tank started beeping. “I love you,” he breathed, rubbing his forehead on the curve of Jim’s nose. “I always have and that’s not ever going to change.”

Jim smiled that real smile and he nodded. “Go get your air, baby. I don’t want to lose you as soon as you were in my life again.”

Sebastian grinned back, both looking decades younger. Sebastian was never going to fall off this high streak. “It’s not my fault you can still take my breath away, love.”


End file.
